Unravel
by ashleyjskywalker
Summary: 3x09. Just for this one night, she will let herself fall apart. Oneshot.


It's almost funny that of any of the plethora of things that could have been the last straw, it's finding his t-shirt in the washing machine that has left you unraveling at the seams.

The thought of her wearing your clothes, sleeping in your bed, eating from your dishes, using your computer... Those can all be remedied. Everything can be replaced, given time. You can even find a new apartment if replacing everything in this one doesn't prove to be enough.

But there is no replacement for Peter. Not even in the other universe, if you had the strength and the courage to go back there. No. The most important thing, the irreplaceable one, has been taken from you, and you've been left with your trust shattered. Again.

A small part of you wonders what might have been if the washer and dryer had been empty. Even after Peter's admission of a relationship, you'd forced yourself not to think in the direction that your mind had wanted to take, compelled yourself not to think of them _together._ You wonder if you would have been able to convince yourself otherwise, or if something else would have triggered the same reaction... if this had been bound to happen regardless of what had prompted it.

As you sit huddled in the corner, clutching his wet t-shirt, you think with no small amount of acerbity that the smallest favor fate could have given you was leaving you with a _dry_ t-shirt... One that still smelled of him, that you could have curled up and slept with for just one night. At least then you could have had one more chance to pretend that he was still yours.

If he ever had been to begin with.

The anguish swells over you, and you roll the offending piece of clothing into a ball and throw it with every last bit of strength remaining to you, staggering back to your feet as you're blinded by your tears. The rest of the clothing left in the washing machine follows suit, every piece of his clothing that you remove disintegrating more of the flimsy stitches holding you together.

You understand now every look of guilt when he thought you weren't looking, the way that he'd acted as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you. Even after you'd admitted your feelings to yourself and chased him across two universes to admit your feelings to _him_, just so he would come home again, just so he would be with you where he _belonged_, never did you imagine that it would end with you feeling as vulnerable as you are now. As shattered as you feel. As betrayed.

As heartbroken.

A sudden cramp in your hand yanks you from your thoughts, and you look down to see that your grip on the edge of the washing machine is so tight that your knuckles have turned white, and it's only with a considerable amount of concentration that you can force yourself to relax enough to let go of it. You notice almost absently the clothes scattered randomly about the room, evidence of your meltdown. But that only serves as a distraction for so long before you lose yourself in your thoughts again.

And now you're berating yourself for forgetting why you'd promised yourself that you would never love again, and you finally realize why this is tearing you apart so much. Because now you have loved twice, and twice you have been betrayed.

And for some reason, this one hurts more.

Maybe it's because of her. The thought has already occurred to you that when you went to him, wearing her clothes with your hair cut and dyed to match hers, that she was the one he was thinking of when he kissed you. But that doesn't account for why he came back, or all of the occasions before that when he came so close to kissing you.

And as the memories of those instants flash through your mind, the last thread that you cling to breaks, and you fall apart. And you're so tired of hurting and so desperate to just _forget_ for one night that you make a decision you wouldn't normally make.

Later, you don't remember getting out the whiskey, or working your way through the bottle. All you know is that you're tired of fighting and losing, and just for one night, you don't want to pretend to be strong, you don't want to pretend to be untouchable.

Just for one night, you'll let yourself unravel.


End file.
